


Pride and Joy

by hecateandhoney (LiveLoveLikeMe)



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLoveLikeMe/pseuds/hecateandhoney
Summary: Divergence from Bad Magic-- What if they don't find Mirabelle for help?  Hicsqueak.Somehow she manages to react, because Mildred is looking at her with those big brown eyes pleading for help, and she cannot deny her that.  For years she’s wanted Mildred to own up to her mistakes, to come to her—or Ada—for help, but now that it’s happening, Hecate wishes she could run away instead.She knows as they go on that there’s no way around what she has to tell Mildred.  She has to prepare her for it, has to shield her even now as she’s unknowingly throwing Hecate’s own mistake right back in her face.  So she tells her the tale few others have heard, standing in the woods staring at the evidence of her recklessness.  She spins the story so Mildred knows she isn’t alone, because somehow in the midst of this tragedy, that’s what feels most important to Hecate.She had been alone, but maybe Mildred doesn’t need to fulfill that part of her history too.





	Pride and Joy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Bad Magic must have been my favorite episode, but I couldn't let go of the idea of what would happen had they not been able to save Julie Hubble. Hecate seemed about ready to adopt Mildred on the spot. This is what came of all that wondering. It was meant to be a oneshot but got so long, it'll now be in three parts. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Title from the Brandi Carlisle song.

Hecate knows Mildred is still speaking, still explaining, but she doesn’t hear the words.  She already knows this tale, knows how the rest will go and how it will surely come to a tragic end. 

She knew from the day Mildred Hubble set foot in Cackle’s Academy, it was a horrible idea.  It was written in her eyes and twisted in her braids, it was painted across her cheeks in a hot fiery streak of defiance.  She didn’t respect the rules, and she didn’t try to stop and understand them.  She was too powerful to understand and thought she knew better, found ways around them in every crisis.

She was just like Joy.

Only worse. 

Because Mildred Hubble didn’t just have a fancy to love the nonmagical world—she was somehow a part of it in ways Joy never could have been.  She was dangerously woven into it, and the people of it, and all of that spelled disaster.

For two years Hecate worried, and as Mildred proved herself again and again to be a capable witch in moments of disaster, that worry began to ease slightly.  She still lacked control, still lacked a regard for the code she so desperately needed to learn, but she seemed to get by in spite of it, and Hecate was content to watch her closely and let her grow to her own realization.

Then the Great Wizard had come with that _wishing star_ and Hecate knew.  It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy right in front of her eyes.  And suddenly Ada was bringing in Julie Hubble, a woman just as fascinated by magic as Indigo had been—the biggest draw Mildred could have for wanting to repeat history, and all the tools were right there at her disposal. 

Hecate told herself it wouldn’t happen, because she couldn’t sleep with the thought that it might, but still she watched Julie’s every move within the school.  It wasn’t that she took issue with the woman herself, or with nonmagical people, as everyone seemed to believe.  She still remembered Joy’s fascination with all of it, dancing around in the streets to their music.  But nonmagical people in a magical place could never mix.  Desire was strong, as she knew all too well.  Temptation, too, was easy—especially when you felt magic had no limits for you.  There was a reason they hid their world, and it was dangerous when they let themselves forget it.

She relaxed as time went on, if only slightly, and Hecate considered that her fatal error.  The star was safe, and then it was gone, so there was no need to worry that Mildred would do the same.  Except she missed that she already had.

And now she’s standing in the hall, hearing the words she knew would come, trying to force her lungs to remember to breathe. 

Somehow she manages to react, because Mildred is looking at her with those big brown eyes pleading for help, and she cannot deny her that.  For years she’s wanted Mildred to own up to her mistakes, to come to her—or Ada—for help, but now that it’s happening, Hecate wishes she could run away instead.

She knows as they go on that there’s no way around what she has to tell Mildred.  She has to prepare her for it, has to shield her even now as she’s unknowingly throwing Hecate’s own mistake right back in her face.  So she tells her the tale few others have heard, standing in the woods staring at the evidence of her recklessness.  She spins the story so Mildred knows she isn’t alone, because somehow in the midst of this tragedy, that’s what feels most important to Hecate.

She had been alone, but maybe Mildred doesn’t need to fulfill that part of her history too.

“I’m telling you so you know you are not the only one who has made this grievous mistake,” Hecate hears herself saying.

“I don’t believe it!”  Mildred turns and walks over to the statue of Indigo.  “It’s just a story, and that is just a statue.”  But they both know Mildred believes her, much as she doesn’t want to.  She can hear the girl’s breath shorten, gasping in her panic.  It would be easy to leave it off there, to let Mildred think she’s not alone and have that be enough, but she can’t quite leave her to panic with only the comfort of a story.  She needs someone tangible.

She needs Hecate.

“It is the truth,” Hecate says firmly.  “I know.”

“How do you know, Miss Hardbroom?”  She can see Mildred pleading with her silently to say she doesn’t, that she’s made it all up.  She wants to give in, to give the child the peace of mind that her mother won’t soon turn to stone, that she won’t soon be left essentially an orphan.  But the solace will last only moments before the crushing blow, and she can’t do that to her.

“Because, Mildred Hubble, my middle name is Hecate.  My first name is Joy.”

It feels like giving away a piece of herself to admit it. 

“I learnt my lesson:  Never break The Witches’ Code.  I cut myself off from my witch friends, including Miss Pentangle.  I continue to be confined to the academy and its grounds.  I have lived with my guilt for thirty years.  I will endeavor to help you to do the same.”  She knows as she says it that it’s a heavy commitment, and she means it.  Something propels her forward, some need to comfort something breaking apart before her eyes, and she places a hand gently on Mildred’s back to ground her in place. 

As far as Hecate knows, Julie is all Mildred has, and soon she’ll be as still and silent as Indigo Moon.  She needs her to feel that she won’t be abandoned from this—that someone will be there to stop her from making the same mistake of isolation. She can see Mildred’s head shaking no, refusing to take any of it in, and wishes she could somehow make it easier.

“There is nothing we can do for your mother,” she says, making it clear.

But Mildred is a stubborn girl, and Hecate never truly expects her to just accept that as an answer.  It’s not surprising when she screams “No!” and runs off towards the school, just as it’s not surprising when she finds her later, having confronted and angered Julie Hubble.

“Mildred, run!” Hecate orders fiercely, prepared to protect her from her own mess even now.

“No, there has to be something, Miss Hardbroom!” Mildred insists.

But there isn’t.  Hecate’s spent thirty years hoping there could be something, and now Mildred shall face the same damning fate because of her failure to stop it from happening.

“Mildred Hubble, get yourself somewhere safe, _now_ ,” Hecate orders.  There’s a familiar look of wildness in Julie’s eyes—it’s volatile, and she fears the eruption of it.

Hecate wants to transfer Mildred away herself, but she can’t, too busy holding off Julie’s attacks.  Her magic is too strong, too pure and uncontrolled, and even Hecate’s immense power can only hold it back for so long.  She is going to lose this battle if something doesn’t soon give, and she still needs Julie to change everyone back.  Already her face is turning grey with stone—there isn’t much time remaining.

“No, it’s my Mum, she wouldn’t hurt me!  I can get her to stop,” Mildred insists.

Hecate can do nothing but watch as Mildred runs forward, arms spread out wide in a gesture so very Hubble.  Mildred may have seen a lot in her time at Cackle’s, but she is young and innocent, still believing a magical hug from her mother will solve everything. 

“Mildred, no!” Hecate calls, but the words feel drowned in the air as they leave her mouth, and everything slows around her. 

Mildred is still sprinting hopefully forward, and Julie notices her.  The look in her eyes is one of danger—one of a woman ravaged by magic her body doesn’t understand and a level of severity to her actions that can’t feel real.  Her attack against Hecate’s shield drops in an instant, encouraging Mildred on, but Hecate sees what the girl misses.  Julie’s only dropped her attack to turn on Mildred, no doubt ready to add her to her little clay prison too.

It’s foolish to drop her shield, knowing she’ll have no way of stopping Julie from dooming her to the same fate, but Mildred is her charge, her responsibility.  She’s somehow allowed this to repeat, made some failure along the way.  So Hecate doesn’t think of herself at all as she drops the shield and lunges at Mildred, knocking them both to the ground. 

She waits for it—the pain of miniaturization, the fire of her body becoming heavy clay—but it never comes.

The only sounds she hears are birds and Mildred’s insistent struggling to break free.  An awkward elbow jabs her in the stomach in what Hecate decides to believe is an accident, and her eyes fly open as the wind is knocked out of her and she rolls back.  She’s still full sized and flesh.

“Miss Hardbroom, what are you doing, I have to—” The words fall flat on Mildred’s tongue, and Hecate doesn’t have to turn to know what’s happening behind her.  She can see it in the way her hopes drain out of her, shoulders deflating, eyes welling up.

If she’s still human, it can only mean one thing.

“Mum?” Mildred asks, and the sound is broken. 

“Mildred…” Hecate tries, but she’s pushed away as Mildred rushes to her feet and throws herself at the statue of her mother.

“Mum,” Mildred cries, hugging the statue like it still might work.  Hecate holds her breath and watches—she wouldn’t put it past Mildred to find a way just like that.  But Julie isn’t encased in magical ice.  She’s a prisoner of her own magical misuse, and no amount of love and hugs will change that.

“It should have worked, it should have worked!” Mildred yells, pounding her fists against the stone.

“Mildred,” Hecate tries again, worried the girl might hurt herself.  She reaches out what she hopes will be a comforting hand, but is stopped as Mildred whips around with a glare that halts her in her boots.

“This is all _your_ fault,” she seethes, hot tears trailing angrily down her cheeks.  “I could have stopped her if you hadn’t gotten in the way.”

“Mildred, she was going to hurt you,” Hecate says, trying to sound calm despite feeling like a rock has settled into her stomach.

“She wasn’t, she wouldn’t!  My Mum would never—”

“Mildred Hubble,” Hecate cuts her off sharply, desperate for this girl to listen to this if nothing else.  “There was nothing you could do.  Your mother was buried in there beneath the weight of something she was never meant to handle.  She wouldn’t have hurt you, no, but the magic was crushing her and it would have.”

“Please turn her back,” Mildred says quietly, tears lacing her voice.  She’s like a band about to snap, and despite herself, Hecate takes a step closer.

“I cannot.  There is no spell.”

“Then make one!” Mildred yells, frustrated.  “It’s not her fault, it’s mine.  I made the wish and gave her magic.  Punish me, not her.”

“It’s not a punishment, Mildred.”

“Yes it is!  I could have saved her, I know it.  But you stopped me because… because you’re jealous!  Because you couldn’t save Indigo Moon, you didn’t want me to save my Mum!”

Mildred’s words ring cold down her spine.  “That’s not true, Mildred, I…” but her words fade off quietly.  Mildred is already running back to the school, no doubt in search of some antidote she’ll never find, and Hecate doesn’t have the strength to run after her.

She knows it isn’t true—knows Mildred’s hug would have made no difference, knows jealousy is the furthest thing from what she’s feeling right now.

But it is her fault, and she deserves the brunt of the girl’s anger, so she accepts it and sets to work moving the statue of Julie Hubble somewhere safer in the woods.

 

 

 

Hecate doesn’t see Mildred again until hours later.  After securing the statue near Indigo’s, Hecate’s priority as deputy had been seeing to the school.  Ada and the rest were still little clay figures, Julie’s magic still in place preventing her from changing them back, which meant the remaining staff needed to be informed, parents of the girls needed to be contacted, and a whole host of other duties needed to be fulfilled.  They had no cook, so she and Miss Drill had been forced to prepare a meal for the girls, and there was a lengthy discussion on whether or not they should temporarily close the school. 

In the end, it is decided that the school will remain open, hiring supply witches to take the place of the missing staff until Hecate can find a way to get everyone back.  The danger, after all, has been neutralized.  There is only repairing left to manage—the hardest part, but not a reason to halt learning.

Exhausted but unable to let herself rest with so much on her plate, Hecate finishes her staff meeting to update everyone on the ongoing problems, and she transfers back to the art room.

“Oh, Ada,” Hecate sighs, picking up the little clay headmistress with a gentle caress.  “I don’t know how to fix this, but I’ll find a way.”

She transfers a chair behind herself and takes a seat, still holding little Ada and looking over at the rest of the figures, hoping none of them can hear what she has to say.  “I didn’t try hard enough to prevent Mildred from making the same grievous error you helped me through thirty years ago.  I failed her.  I should have destroyed that wishing star the moment it entered Cackle’s grounds.  Now the only way to free you all is trapped in stone, but I promise you I will figure something out.  There has to be something I can use to lift her neutralization spell,” she says, thinking out loud.  With a heavy sigh, she carefully sets Ada back.  She’ll be safe in the castle now.

Hecate is about to leave—and seal the door behind her for good measure—when a stifled noise reaches her ears.  It takes only a moment to locate Mildred, hidden beside a cupboard, clutching one of her mother’s paint-splattered coveralls.  If Mildred notices her, she says nothing.

Awkwardly in her restrictive dress, Hecate lowers herself to the ground to kneel beside Mildred and quietly sits.

She doesn’t know what to say—or rather, she knows there isn’t much she can say.  There is nothing that will make the pain of what happened go away.  Mildred, a child normally so full of life and magic, looks small scrunched up in a ball and crying.  It tugs at something in her chest, and for a moment those braids are replaced by her own braids, in the same position alone in her room, shutting everyone out. 

For once, she doesn’t shy away from the similarities between her younger self and Mildred Hubble.  For once, she wants to embrace them for something good.

So she sits, and she waits.

“I don’t suppose you overheard what I was saying to myself before?” she asks quietly.

Mildred sniffles and nods, the first sign she even knows Hecate is there, and she takes it as encouragement.

“I’m sorry I don’t know how to fix them yet, Mildred.  I am certain you wish your friends could be here right now, rather than myself.”

“They tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen,” Mildred says, finally looking up at her.  “And because of me, Mum’s stuck as a statue now.  You were right, Miss Hardbroom.”

“Was I?” Hecate asks wearily.

“I really am the worst witch.”

Hecate sighs and feels her shoulders lower in defeat, her own words thrown back at her in the last way she wants to hear them.  “Mildred Hubble, I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

Mildred stays silent, which she takes as acceptance of her condition.

“When you came to this academy, I was not very kind to you.  Perhaps it wasn’t the best approach—I’m not certain that matters now.  The truth is, as you know, we have a rather lot in common, and that… frightened me.  I did not wish for history to repeat itself,” she admits.

“But it did, didn’t it?  I did to Mum exactly what you did to Indigo Moon.”

Hecate nods.  “You did.  But you don’t think I’m a terrible witch for it, do you?” she asks, unsure she wants the answer.  Perhaps Mildred does consider her a horrible witch.

“No, of course not.  You just wanted to be with your friend,” Mildred says thoughtfully.

“Precisely.  And you wished to help your mother.  I think we both have enough guilt to live with for our choices without casting doubt upon our abilities too.  You are a talented young witch when you apply yourself, and I failed you.  I should have done more to stop this from happening.”

“Maybe,” Mildred says, shrugging, “or maybe you did all you could and I just didn’t listen.”

Hecate sighs.  “Perhaps.”  She doesn’t wish to tell Mildred she’s wrong when she knows it’s the truth.  Yet, she doesn’t look down at her for it either, for she once believed the rules did not apply to her, either, and she paid the same hefty price.

“We’re going to get everyone back, right, Miss Hardbroom?  Even Mum?” Mildred asks quietly, fiddling with the coverall.

“I certainly plan to do my best for Miss Cackle and the others, but Mildred… I’m not certain anything can be done to help your mother.  There is a reason Indigo Moon is still in the woods thirty years later.”

“There has to be _something_.  You just haven’t found it yet, but maybe with me looking too—“

“Mildred, I do not wish for you to get your hopes up about this.  Even if there was a way to turn her back from stone, she would still be a danger to us all,” Hecate reminds her.

She can see the fight flare up in Mildred’s eyes, senses it before it comes in a torrent and braces herself for it.  Grief and magic do not mix.

“I don’t care if she’s dangerous, she’s my Mum!” Mildred yells.  Outside the window, there is a bright flash of lightning.  The room rumbles with thunder and Mildred screams, latching onto Hecate’s sleeve in fear.  “Did I do that?” The storm rumbles harder.

“Mildred, you need to calm down,” Hecate says severely.  “You’re not in control and your magic is reacting to your emotions.”

“How do I make it stop?” Mildred asks, panicked.  She’s shaking like a leaf.  Hecate reaches out and plants a hand on each shoulder as if holding her in place and forces Mildred to meet her gaze.

“Focus on something else.  Tell me, what are the ingredients in a simple reconstruction spell?”

“I- I don’t know I… the storm is so strong and Mum’s out there.”

“Hush, your mother is perfectly safe.  I have her with Indigo Moon and there are protective enchantments surrounding them both.  Now tell me the ingredients in a reconstruction spell, Mildred.”

“Henbane, beeswax, toadspit, and… uhm…”

“Think, Mildred.”

“The sap of a tree harvested during a full moon?”

“Very good!” Hecate praises, and then, before Mildred’s mind can slip back to the storm, she adds, “Now a headache reducing potion.”

“Lavender, a single cat whisker, pondweed, and a drop of bat drool to make it extra-strength.”

“Excellent.”

They go on like this, Hecate naming potions and pulling Mildred’s attention, until finally the storm lowers down to a trickle.

“How did you know that would work?” Mildred asks, eyes wide.

“How do you think I got so good at potions?”  Hecate sniffs.  “Keep this up and you’ll know them almost as well as I do.”

“Only almost?” Mildred asks with a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Yes.  Now, I believe it is past lights out, Mildred Hubble.  It would do you well to go to bed.”

 

 

 

Hecate has been strong all day.  She’s kept herself together when all she’s wanted to do is crumple apart, because Mildred needed her, and the school needed her, and she owed it to Indigo Moon to try and stop a repetition of her tragedy.  But now it’s her nightly mirror chat with Pippa, and she is looking at her, smiling like she hasn’t been burned by this too—of course, Hecate realizes, she has no idea she has been.  There is no judgment in her eyes, no expectation that Hecate will save her day as well, and Hecate is so _tired_.

“Is anything wrong, Hiccup?”  It’s asked so innocently, because lost in her thoughts, Hecate has taken too long to answer. 

And maybe it’s the way Pippa says Hiccup, or the culmination of Mildred’s fresh pain reopening the wounds she’s never quite succeeded at closing, but something in Hecate snaps, and suddenly she’s sitting in front of her mirror sobbing uncontrollably.

When she looks up next, embarrassment hitting her, the mirror is blank.  Pippa’s hung up.  She pulls out her black lace handkerchief and cleans up, angry with herself for breaking down and hurt that Pippa hasn’t stayed to find out why.  Hecate has never been a reliable source of comfort for Pippa, so she has no reason to expect Pippa to treat her any differently.

She’s too tired to deal with any of this, and it wasn’t fair of her to hold up Pippa’s evening anyways.  Weary to the bone, Hecate decides to go to bed.

It is unlikely, but just maybe things will look better in the morning.  At least she’ll be able to think more clearly.

However, before she can make it the few steps across to her bedroom door, there’s a knock from the hall.

Sighing heavily at whatever nonsense she’s going to have to deal with now, Hecate walks swiftly over and yanks open the door, ready with a scowl.  It leaves her face when she sees it’s Mildred, standing shivering and wet in the drafty castle hall, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“You foolish girl, come in,” Hecate says, unable to stop the tenderness from coming through even in her annoyance.  She guides Mildred to her dwindling fire and reignites the flame before casting a quick drying spell on the girl.  Hecate pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it firmly around her shoulders, then looks aside in a silent command to sit. 

Hecate sits at the other end of the couch, folds her hands in her lap, and clicks her tongue.  “I don’t suppose you plan to deny that you disobeyed school rules, again, and went outside after lights out to see your mother?”

“No, I did,” Mildred says with a downcast expression.  “I’m sorry, Miss Hardbroom.  I know you said she’d be all right, but I needed to see for myself.  It’s my fault she’s all wet.  I left her my cloak…”

“I see,” Hecate says with a sniff.  “Mildred, I understand what you’re going through better than most, but I cannot permit you blatantly breaking the rules.  That’s how we got here in the first place,” Hecate says gently but firmly.

“I know, that’s why I came to see you.  Well, I went to see Maud and Enid first, because I forgot they’re gone too and… Were you asleep?” Mildred asks suddenly, eyes darting around Hecate’s face, no doubt seeing the aftermath of her tears. 

Hecate clears her throat.  “No, I was not yet in bed.”

“Then… did you mean what you said earlier in the woods?  Will you really help me?”

Hecate blinks in surprise.  “Of course I will.  I did not make my offer lightly.  I know your situation is difficult, Mildred, and I don’t wish for you to have to deal with it on your own.”

“Good, because I don’t know how to do this by myself.  I feel guilty about Mum and want to talk to my friends, but I can’t because they’re clay, which I also feel guilty about.  And I feel like I’m bothering you, because you look like you were crying, and I _really_ didn’t want to cause that too.”

Hecate feels her cheeks grow hot.  “That is nothing for you to concern yourself with,” she says sharply, and then, taking in Mildred’s own puffy eyes, “and there is no shame in crying when you need to, Mildred.  It has been an emotional day for everyone.”  She says the words as much for her own benefit as for Mildred’s, finishing it off with a haughty sniff to regain some of her dignity.

“Then, can we start now?” Mildred asks eagerly.

“Mildred Hubble, it is well past midnight!”

“Please, Miss Hardbroom.  I need to learn the Code.”

Hecate rolls her eyes.  “You have been at this academy for over two years, I would certainly hope you know at least _some_ of it by now.  There’s nothing that cannot wait until you’ve had a night of rest.”

“But no one is safe until I learn all of it.”  Mildred’s voice is small when she says it, and Hecate knows the feeling all too well, remembers her days and nights bent over the book like it sustained her.

“Very well,” she says quietly.  Hecate waves a hand and a worn leather book floats gently down from the bookshelf on the wall and lands in her hands.  “We shall begin with the most basic rules that began the formation of The Witches’ Code as we know it today.  There shall be no spells for personal gain, and there shall be no spells that harm other witches.  Now, much of the code was built off these founding rules and they have been greatly expanded upon, as you well know, but let us break them down a bit further into exactly what that means and why it is important.”

 

 

 

Mildred is asleep before she’s even had time to finish explaining the difference between personal gain and trivial magic, much to Hecate’s relief.  The Code has an almost soothing effect on her, and delving into it so late after such a day is hardly helping.  Making sure Mildred is truly asleep, she allows herself to yawn and stretches as she stands from the couch. 

Hecate looks down at the girl, so peaceful in her sleep, it’s almost a shame to move her from the couch.  There is one striking difference between herself and Mildred Hubble, and Hecate knows it better than she knows the tip of her hat—while she chose to isolate herself from everyone, Mildred will always be someone who seeks comfort in the company of others.  Yet, while she had Pippa trying desperately to pry her way back in, Mildred is left abandoned when she just wants someone.

It doesn’t matter to Hecate that it’s her fault—someone else can be angry about that and punish her fittingly.  That isn’t Hecate’s role this time.  Mildred Hubble has no one, and even when her friends are returned to their correct states, she will have no parent.  At least, no parent able to do any parenting.  She has no doubt the girl will spend every moment of the next thirty years just as Hecate has, wishing for a way to undo her mess.  But in the meantime, she cannot be alone, and Hecate knows her offer of help extended beyond teaching her the code.

She knew the moment Mildred told her what she’d done, though she was loathe to admit it, that her responsibility to the girl would run deeply between them.

Looking at her now, Hecate feels it, feels the pull to protect her, to guide her.  She failed Mildred once, but she doesn’t have to repeat her mistakes.  She’ll be the person on Mildred’s side.

Gently, Hecate fixes the fallen blanket back around her shoulders and transfers a pillow under the sleeping girl’s head.  Just for tonight, she will let her stay on the couch, if only to keep an eye on her lest any wild ideas to head back to the forest before dawn spring to her in the night.  She knows Mildred would prefer her friends, but she cannot give them to her yet.

Once more, Hecate moves quietly towards her bedroom, intent on getting at least a few hours of sleep before the grueling duties of headmistress, deputy, and half the rest of the staff fall upon her shoulders in the morning.  And once more, she’s interrupted by a knock, this time from the window.

Hecate flicks it open, standing guarded against whatever potential intruder has come.  She drops her hands when a dripping mess of pink fabric flies right on in, landing with a stumble as her hat’s fallen over her eyes.  Hecate doesn’t need to see a face to know it’s Pippa.

“There seems to be a bit of a rainstorm directly over Cackle’s.  It’s curious, there’s no rain anywhere else,” Pippa complains, frowning at her drooping hat.

“Yes, well, it’s calmed considerably,” Hecate sniffs.  “Now keep your voice down.”

She nods her head in Mildred’s direction, and Pippa’s eyes widen.  “Is that Mildred Hubble?  On your couch?”

“It’s a long story.  What are you doing here, Pippa?” Hecate whispers.

“Honestly, Hecate, I told you I was coming.”

“When?”  Hecate speaks a bit too loudly, and Mildred stirs.  Both women freeze, watching her nervously, but she simply rolls to the side and slumbers on.  “This is ridiculous, take off that wet cloak, put it over a chair by the fire, and follow me.”

She heads into her bedroom, not looking to see if Pippa’s following.  In Mildred’s plight, she’d been distracted from her heartache over Pippa hanging up, but now there’s a fresh pink reminder standing in her sitting room.

When Pippa catches up with her, Hecate waves a hand to close the door and mutters a spell to keep their noise from reaching Mildred. 

Hecate’s exhausted and wants nothing more than to collapse into bed, but it feels wrong to do that when Pippa’s still here looking curiously around the room.  She freezes, realizing she’s never invited Pippa to this intimate setting before.

“Pippa, it’s late, what are you doing here?” Hecate crosses her arms and stands up as straight as her tired legs allow.

Pippa only rolls her eyes.  “Hecate, you were _crying_.  A lot, in fact.  I tried to ask you about it but you either didn’t or wouldn’t hear me, so what other choice did I have?  I did tell you I was coming, but I suspect you weren’t listening.”

Hecate sniffs.  “I thought you grew tired of my driveling and hung up.  I… apologize for such indignity.  You shouldn’t have let me ruin your evening.”

Pippa crosses the room and stops by her side, holding out a questioning hand towards Hecate’s shoulder.  She gives an imperceptible nod and relaxes under Pippa’s warm touch as she gently rubs up and down. 

“Hiccup, you’ve ruined nothing.  I want to be here for you, whatever it is.”

Hecate chuckles darkly to herself.  “You’re only saying that because you don’t know what it is yet.”

“Well, you could tell me?  If you want to?”

Hecate sighs and deflates down to the edge of her bed, patting the spot next to her.  “I’m not quite sure where to begin.”

Pippa waves a hand over herself and in a cloud of pink sparkles, her dress is changed into a silky pink pajama slip, her hair is down, and her face is fresh.  “Might as well be comfortable, I sense a long night ahead,” she says with a shrug, finally moving to take the seat beside Hecate. 

“Are you… sleeping here?” Hecate blinks.

“It’ll be just like old times!”  Pippa says excitedly, then pauses.  “Unless you don’t want me to?  It’s too late to fly back, and I’d sleep on your couch, but Mildred…”

“It’s fine!” Hecate says too quickly.  “Of course you’re welcome to sleep here.”

Pippa brightens at this and smiles.  “Want me to do you?”

Hecate gapes at the words and flushes pink.  This isn’t how she was supposed to get Pippa in her bed, isn’t how she was supposed to hear Pippa ask her that question.  “I’ll, uh, do myself.  I mean, dress myself,” Hecate flounders. 

If Pippa notices, she doesn’t comment on it, doesn’t even giggle at her embarrassment, and Hecate is grateful.  Soon she’s ready for bed, too, and she follows Pippa’s lead and scoots up the bed to lean against the pillows.

“No reason we can’t be comfortable,” Pippa explains.

It feels so intimate, lying here on her bed next to Pippa.  She’s imagined it so many times, but it’s never been quite like this.

“I’m afraid,” Hecate admits quietly.

Pippa’s gaze shoots over to her.  “Hecate, please tell me what’s wrong?  Are you in danger?  Is someone threatening you?  Why is Mildred Hubble on your couch?”

“No, none of that,” Hecate says, waving her off.  “I mean of this… I… Pippa, you’ve never pushed me to speak about what happened thirty years ago, and I’ve been grateful to you for that.  I’m not certain I would be so patient were the roles reversed.”

Pippa sighs and leans back down on Hecate’s pillow.  Her hand and its movements return to Hecate’s shoulder.  “You still don’t have to tell me now if you’re not ready.”

Hecate shakes her head.  “No, but I do.  All of this comes right back to it, and I… I need your help, Pipsqueak.  I won’t lie to you and give you only part of the story, but I’m not ready for you to hate me again.  This is important to me,” Hecate admits, looking carefully over at Pippa, wondering if she knows what Hecate really means.  _They_ are important to her.  Every bit of their relationship, every touch, every hope that it can be more.

“I don’t know what it is, so I can’t promise I won’t be upset, but I won’t hate you, Hecate.  Even when we weren’t speaking, I could never quite manage to hate you,” Pippa says softly.

“Very well, then.  I suppose I should begin with what happened thirty years ago…”

Hecate tells her everything, speaks until her voice is hoarse and they’re both struggling to keep their eyes open.  Pippa never says one word of judgment, never complains, and all throughout Hecate’s story, her hand never leaves Hecate’s shoulder.

 

 

Hecate groans as the sun passes through her window.  There’s a fleeting thought that if the sun is already out, she’s overslept.  There are so many impossible things to do today, and they spent so late talking through the night, she deserves to stay and rest longer.  It’s the most tempting thing in the world to throw her authority at Dimity and let her handle it all for once.

But then her mind whirls back to Mildred asleep on her couch because no one else remained in the castle to comfort her and Ada trapped as a clay figure because Hecate hasn’t found a way to turn them back, and she knows she needs to get up anyways. 

Hecate cracks her eyes open, and her heart jumps to a start in surprise.  Pippa is asleep in her bed right beside her.  At some point, they’ve moved under the covers, and Pippa is curled up at her side.  It takes Hecate a moment to understand that her shock is at the fact that Pippa has stayed.

It’s a shame to wake her, but already she’ll be late for her duties at Pentangle’s.  “Pippa,” Hecate says softly, shaking the blonde’s arm to rouse her.  Pippa groans and turns to bury her face in the pillow. 

“It’s too early,” she mumbles.

“It’s too _late_ I think you mean.  We’ve both overslept, and if you don’t leave now, your absence at Pentangle’s will be noticed,” Hecate hisses, ripping the covers off them both to remove any last temptation.

Pippa lifts her head with a mock glare but starts to move anyways.

“I hope you realize I have no intention of returning to Pentangle’s today.”

“What?” Hecate nearly drops her dress.

“You spent hours last night telling me half your staff and several students are trapped in clay, and somehow you’re still planning to run the school with supply witches.  Please let me help?  I can teach if you want, or if you’d prefer I can sift through books in the library to find a way to remove the neutralization spell.  Just let me do something, Hecate.”

“You may stay,” Hecate says after a moment of pause.  There is relief flooding through her.  Pippa doesn’t want to leave, even knowing what Hecate did, even knowing how Hecate ruined their friendship.  “You’re not angry?”

“Of course not.  I’m proud of you for being there for Mildred.  She needs someone, Hecate.”

“I meant about what happened thirty years ago.”

“Ahh,” Pippa says, shrugging.  “I wish you had told me then, that you hadn’t pushed me away, but I don’t want to judge you for something you did as a child, Hecate.  Not when we’ve both moved on and found each other again.  There’s a lot I don’t understand, I’ll admit.  Joy was my best friend and I thought… and they magically confined you to the school?  But you’ve left since then, I don’t… I need more time to think about it, but I want you to please know that I do not hate you, I never could hate you, and I’m very glad you’ve told me the truth now.”

“Okay,” Hecate says simply.  It’s a fair response—too fair, if she’s honest with herself.  “I should wake up Mildred.”

She excuses herself, intent on giving Pippa a moment alone with her thoughts, but stops when she nears the couch.

“Mildred Hubble,” Hecate says sharply, jolting the girl awake.

She watches as her eyes take in her surroundings and a wave of guilt passes over her face.  “Did I fall asleep here?  I’m sorry, Miss Hardbroom.”

“You are late for lantern duty,” she points out.  “Go get changed into your uniform and get to work quickly, or you’ll be late for breakfast.”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” Mildred says, yawning even as she scrambles towards the door.  Just as she reaches for the handle, she pauses.  “Miss Hardbroom?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”  And then she’s gone.

 

 

 

 

Mildred doesn’t appear at breakfast, and Hecate tries not to worry, but she can’t help the way it twists like a root in her stomach. Hecate finds her, in the end.  After tearing apart her usual haunts, after having Pippa help her scour the woods.  Dimity recruits some students to help with breakfast cleanup and holds the school together, and Hecate is torn with guilt for not fulfilling her responsibilities as temporary head.  Mildred is her responsibility now, too, and she finds the choice isn’t even a choice—she cannot focus on anything until she knows Mildred Hubble is safe.

Pippa could be useful elsewhere in the school, Hecate knows, but she doesn’t protest when the blonde refuses to leave her side.  It’s so obvious when they find her, Hecate curses herself for not thinking of it sooner.

She’s seated on the floor of the library, surrounded by towering stacks of advanced spellbooks, sound asleep beside an open one on transfiguration spells.

“I’ll go help Miss Drill and see what use I can be,” Pippa says, excusing herself.

“Mildred Hubble,” Hecate drawls sharply.  She jolts awake with a start and looks guiltily up at her.  “What are you doing sleeping on the library floor?”

“S-sorry, Miss Hardbroom.”  Mildred stands and fails to fix her crumpled school uniform.  “I started looking for a way to fix everyone when I finished the lanterns, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Hecate deflates and seats herself at one of the library tables.  “Sit,” she commands, gesturing to the space across from her. 

“Mildred, you do not need to figure this all out on your own.  If you need a break from classes to recover yourself, we can discuss it, but mealtimes are not negotiable.”

“I slept through breakfast?” Mildred asks with a groan.  “I didn’t mean to.”

“Well, I am glad to hear that, at least.”  Hecate sniffs.

“And I don’t think I want a break from classes.  Unless you want my help looking for a spell?  I just want to feel like I’m useful.  I did this, I should be able to fix it.”

“We can work something out,” Hecate assures.  “And Miss Pentangle is here to help, so perhaps she’ll find something I’ve missed.”

“Miss Pentangle?” Mildred perks up.  “Why did she come?”

“To help,” Hecate repeats shortly, not caring to explain the rest of her humiliating tears.

“Can I ask you a question?” Mildred asks tentatively.

“I suppose.”

“Why haven’t I been punished yet?”

Hecate squints.  “Would you prefer to be?”

“No,” Mildred says hurriedly.  “I’m just confused.  You haven’t expelled me or even mentioned detention yet, and that’s…”

“Uncharacteristic of me?”

“Yeah, that.”

Hecate chews on her answer for a moment before finally saying, “I have no doubt Miss Cackle will come up with something when we’ve rescued her, but I do not think it would be right for me to judge you for actions I myself have done as well.  Does that make sense?”

“I think so.”

“Losing a loved one is a lot to take in.  If you need to speak with someone, I hope you know my door is open to you.  Provided you knock,” Hecate adds. 

“Maybe.  But… Mum isn’t lost.  I know you think it’s dangerous, Miss Hardbroom, but I can’t just leave her like that.”

“Mildred…”

“No.  I can’t just act like she’s gone when I know she’s not.  I can’t let her down like that.  You saw her, you know she wasn’t herself.  And what if she’s the only one who can free everyone else?”

Hecate sighs.  “As it stands, we both had better hope it is not the only way.  It has been thirty years since Indigo Moon, Mildred.  I don’t say this to crush you,” she adds, watching the determination crumple across Mildred’s face, “but I think you must be prepared.  We cannot live in a fantasy.”

Mildred looks at her strangely, and Hecate doesn’t understand the expression. 

“Okay,” she says slowly, “But if we find a way to change them back, can we at least talk about it?  It isn’t fair to leave them like that when it’s our fault, danger or not.”

“That is… agreeable,” Hecate says reluctantly.  She is certain they will not find a way—especially not a safe one—and it feels dangerous to allow Mildred the dream of it ever happening at all.  But she knows the feeling, knows the hope she’s lived with all too well.  She thinks of the moments spent talking to Indigo in the woods, telling her things and whispering secrets on the small chance Indigo hears them.  She understands why it can’t happen, but a small part of her still yearns for just what Mildred wants too.

 

 

 

 

Pippa finds Hecate that evening sitting by the clay prison, flipping through a very old book and occasionally reading bits out loud to Ada.  It is little good—Julie Hubble’s magic continues to be as strong and pure as the wishing star, and nothing she tries will lower the neutralization spell.  She sighs when Pippa enters holding two cups of tea and sets her book aside.

“This is useless.”  She accepts the cup happily and takes a sip, pleased to find Pippa still remembers how she likes it.  “I have never encountered such a powerful neutralization spell.”

“Sleep may do you wonders, Hiccup,” Pippa quips, taking a seat beside her.

“Perhaps.  But I hate the thought of leaving them trapped in confinement longer than necessary.”

“About that.”  Pippa sets her cup down, and Hecate can tell whatever she’s about to say, it’s going to be serious.  The smile leaves her perky cheeks and she straightens her spine.

“Yes?” Hecate asks wearily.

“Last night you mentioned that you were magically confined to the academy.”

Hecate sucks in a sharp breath. “I did.”

“Does that mean… Are you still… How could-”

“I made an agreement to remain a student at Cackle’s under the terms that I would not leave the grounds, but that agreement ended with my graduation.”

“But you’re still here,” Pippa points out knowingly, worry lacing her tone.  Her eyes drift accusingly down to little clay Ada.

“I assure you, my continued confinement is fully of my own volition.  Ada took a great chance on me in giving me this job.  I left to finish my studies and to train under Mistress Broomhead, as you know all about.”  She pauses to shudder.  “Cackle’s was not hiring when I arrived, but Ada understood and implored Mrs. Cackle to take me on in spite of it.”

Pippa’s smile returns, softly.  “That sounds very much like Miss Cackle.”

“Hmm, yes.  Her mother was none too pleased when her first action as Headmistress was to name me Deputy considering how hard Ada had to fight her to give me a chance teaching at all.  I was young, had no idea how to handle a class of students, but I sunk into the structure and rules of it all.”

“You must love it if you’re still here now,” Pippa says airily.  Hecate can tell she’s fishing for something and nearly rolls her eyes.

“I spend my days passing on my passion for the art of potions-making, I have nothing to complain about.”

“But…”

“Oh, Pippa, whatever it is, just ask!  I’m far too exhausted to play guessing games.”  Hecate rubs her temple, the beginnings of an overdue headache coming along.

“Have you really never wanted to move onto somewhere else?  At all?”

Hecate hesitates, eyeing Pippa carefully.  She wonders if her answer will be judged.  She herself judges it, knows it doesn’t make sense, yet she cannot deny her decision any more than she can deny the Code.  “I do love Cackle’s, but I have considered it.  In fact on several occasions, I packed a bag and prepared to set off without a hair of a plan in mind.  But every time, something stopped me from going forward.”

“Indigo?” Pippa guesses.

“Indigo,” she affirms.  “It is my fault she is trapped here.  Leaving would mean abandoning the last bit of her and I just cannot find the will within myself to do it.”

“Oh, Hecate.”  Pippa frowns and reaches a hand across to Hecate’s knee.  It’s warm.  “You don’t have to lock yourself away as some kind of punishment for what you did as a child.  I didn’t know Indigo very well, but I don’t think she would have wanted that for you.”

Hecate sighs and stands sharply, knocking Pippa’s hand off her knee and striding away.  “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me understand.  I only wish to help you.”  Pippa stands to match her stance holds her hands out helplessly beside her.  “I’m not the enemy here, Hiccup.”

“No, I know.”  Hecate lets out a deep breath and closes her eyes.  “I know you mean well.  This is all just…”

“Impossible?  Something you never thought you’d have to dig up again?”

“Exactly.”

“Come along.  I think we could both use a good night of sleep,” Pippa insists.  Hecate nods and allows Pippa to transfer them both to her chambers.

She starts at the sight of Mildred already asleep on her couch, curled around her copy of The Witches Code.  She should be angry that she’s let herself in without permission, but finds no anger present.  With a sigh, Hecate removes the book and covers her with the blanket.

“I suppose we’ll have to share again,” Pippa whispers, not sounding as disappointed as Hecate expects.

“I suppose we will.”  When Pippa turns away, Hecate can’t help the small smile that slips its way onto her face.

 

 

 

 

Things at Cackle’s begin to fall into a pattern.  Hecate takes over her duties as temporary head with Dimity at her side, and they both deal with increasingly upset parents over their still-clay children.  There is talk of attempts to have Ada removed once and for all, but as she’s currently just as indisposed, little is able to come of it.  Students with an interest in culinary magic are given kitchen duty in exchange for extra credits.  Sybil and Mabel band together in their shared yet differently presented grief, both avoiding Mildred, who barely seems to notice as she drifts alone between her classes and the art room.  Pippa returns to Pentangle’s only to come back every weekend, and every night Mildred knocks on Hecate’s door for another lesson on the Code.  She’s beginning to pick it up with an almost impressive sense of dedication.  Thankfully she gets the girl back into the habit of returning to her own room after attempts to remain quiet have led to one too many stubbed toes.

The search for a solution is grueling.  The three of them work in a constant cycle of raised hopes and disappointment following yet another failure.

“Is Miss Pentangle coming tonight?” Mildred asks one Friday after lessons.  They prefer to research in the art room.  Hecate is now certain given the magic they won’t be able to hear, but she still wonders if perhaps they can see.

“She has not told me otherwise,” Hecate says sharply.  There is a small piece of her that fears Pippa’s clockwork visits will suddenly cease without warning.

“It’s nice of her to help so much,” Mildred says conversationally.  There’s a particular lilt to her tone that makes Hecate think she wishes to voice more on the subject of Miss Pentangle, but she does not take the lead to make it any easier on the girl.

“Indeed.”  Hecate sniffs and tries to return to her reading, but it’s difficult to concentrate over the sound of all the little gears turning away in Mildred’s head across the table.  The girl is fiddling with her braid and staring intently at her.  Hecate pretends to be none the wiser and focuses down on her page.

Of course, no amount of stalling can hold a Hubble off for long.

“I was just wondering,” Mildred begins delicately.  Hecate sighs, having known this was coming, and lowers her book to the table with an exaggerated glare.  Mildred, undeterred, presses on. 

“It’s just… she comes here to help a lot, and I know Miss Pentangle is nice and likes to help people, but…”

“But?” Hecate asks warningly. 

“Miss Pentangle obviously cares about you, so…” Mildred meets her eyes and swallows nervously.

Hecate glares back, anger at the ready.

Neither gets the chance to back down first, as a cheery, “Knock, Knock!” sounds from the doorway, and in walks Pippa.  The conversation drops like a hot coal.

“What have you two been up to?” Pippa asks, walking over to greet them both as she does every Friday evening.

“ _Just reading_ ,” Hecate says firmly, a little too harshly if she thinks about it, but if Pippa notices, she doesn’t let on.

“I see.  Well, I brought a few volumes with me from Pentangle’s library.  I figured it couldn’t hurt to branch out our search a bit,” Pippa explains, pulling three heavy red books from her satchel. 

Mildred huffs and shoves her own book aside, looking wearily at the new materials.  “It’s been weeks, how have we not found anything by now?”

“We just have to keep trying,” Pippa says with a little fist pump, but even that’s starting to lack muster.  Mildred isn’t wrong, it has been taking them an abhorrent amount of time.  The trapped students will be so behind on their studies, the angry parents will have more time to organize against Miss Cackle….

“We cannot give up,” Hecate says firmly.

“I don’t want to give up,” Mildred argues.  She stands from her seat, kicking it back, and drags her feet over to the clay castle.  “I just wish it felt like we were doing something more than sitting around reading.”

“Trying the wrong thing could have detrimental results,” Hecate reminds, though she too feels the frustration in the uselessness of their attempts so far.

Mildred sighs and nods, having heard the same phrase a hundred times already.  “I wish I’d listened to Maud.  She knew something was wrong with Mum, just like she’d know what to look for in these books.”

Hecate holds back her tongue from saying that just because young Maud Moonshine is a talented student, does not mean she’s more capable than two grown and studied witches.  If Mildred wants to think that, she’s not going to convince her otherwise.  She instead watches sadly as the girl carefully plucks up her clay friend and carries her away from the castle, placing her on the open page of her book. 

“Come on, Maud, where should I look?”

Hecate shakes her head and looks away, feeling unwelcome tears welling up.  She knows that loneliness, knows how it feels to lose your best friend and want them so desperately to answer, and it hurts.

“Mildred, what did you do?” Pippa exclaims, ripping Hecate away from her own self-pity.

She tears her gaze in the direction of the castle where little clay Ada resides, but it looks perfectly intact.  “What?” Hecate asks desperately, missing the problem.

“She removed Maud!” Pippa says wondrously.  It takes Hecate a moment to realize she’s not upset, and slowly she looks again at the little figure of Maud sitting on a very startled Mildred’s open book.

A little clay Maud no longer inside the neutralization bubble.

_Oh._

“How did you take her away from there?” Hecate asks quickly, standing from her seat and rushing to Mildred’s side while Pippa flanks her on the other, both staring down at Maud’s figure.

Mildred shrugs.  “What do you mean?  I just picked her up and brought her here.  I didn’t hurt her,” she adds defensively.

“Oh, Mildred, you’ve done it!” Pippa cheers, clasping her hands together.

“I have?”

“Can it really be this simple?” Hecate asks, knowing of course it can.  They’ve been working on the powerful neutralization spell, but made a vital error in the process.  Any talented witch would seal the bubble to stop things from being removed, but Julie Hubble was not a talented witch.  She was a powerful one, but an inexperienced one, and though her magic was destructive and mischievous, she herself was not a vindictive person.  They’ve been assuming too much from her and failing to look for the most obvious answers. 

None of them have thought, in all these weeks, to simply remove everyone from the neutralized space.

“Hecate, you’re best at transfiguration spells, you should try.”

She strides quickly over to the castle and caresses tiny clay Ada as she’s done many times before.  This time, she gently pulls her away.  Her breath catches as Ada passes easily over the barrier line.  Everyone is quiet as she sets her on a nearby table and begins to say a spell.

“Let clay give way to flesh and bone

Return Ada Cackle to her home.”

There is a moment where her heart sinks.  Nothing happens, and she’s certain they’ve gotten it wrong again.  But then the tiny clay figure begins to bubble, smoke swirling out around her, and slowly the clay stretches and expands into a newer, witchier form, and Ada is standing on the table in front of them all.

“Miss Cackle!” Mildred cheers, immediately drawing her attention.

“What?  Oh, Mildred, there was something I needed to tell you but… why am I on the table?”  She looks around, frowning, and stops on Hecate.  “Miss Hardbroom?”  Her gaze goes even further, and her eyes widen.  “Miss _Pentangle?_   What are you doing here?”

“Miss Cackle, it’s wonderful to have you back,” Pippa says, dipping into a well met respectfully.

“Back?  Have I been away?” Ada blinks.

Hecate rushes forward and reaches up a hand to help Ada climb down from the table.  “Do you truly remember none of it?” she asks once Ada is safely back on the ground.

Ada closes her eyes and rubs her forehead.  “I remember missing students, and then Julie Hubble… oh, no, Hecate we have to stop her,” Ada says suddenly, looking panicked.  “You were right.”

“Miss Cackle,” Hecate says carefully, mindful of Mildred standing and watching nearby, “Perhaps now is not the time, you see—“

“Mum’s a statue, she can’t hurt anyone now,” Mildred interrupts quietly.  All eyes turn her way.  “You’ve all been stuck as clay for weeks.  I stole the wishing star from your office and gave her magic.  All of it is my fault.”  She looks tearfully down at her feet.  Pippa moves protectively to Mildred’s side and puts an easy arm around her shoulders.

Hecate watches as Ada’s jaw pops open as she processes the quickened version of what’s happened, and sees the anger beginning to build.  It takes quite a lot to bring Ada Cackle to true fury, but Mildred has well and truly crossed a line this time. 

“Mildred Hubble,” Hecate says sharply before Ada can say something she’ll regret, “as admirable as your confession is, do not forget you have just found the way to reverse the spell and bring Miss Cackle back to us.  I am quite proud of how hard you have work these weeks.”

The praise does its job.  Mildred relaxes and Ada’s anger is replaced by shock.  She knows she’ll have a great deal of explaining to do later.

“Miss Hardbroom, what is going on?” she asks, floundering.

“Ada,” she says gently, trying to ease her friend down from what must be a terrifying experience, “I promise I’ll explain in full later.”

“But first, I think we should perhaps turn everyone else back,” Pippa adds helpfully.

“Mildred?” Hecate asks, looking to the girl expectantly.

“You want me to leave?” she asks sadly.

Hecate rolls her eyes.  “No, I wish for you to perform the spell.  You’ve seen it done once, and you did in a roundabout way figure it out.”

Ada is looking at her now like she’s grown a second head, but she ignores it.  She’ll most definitely be explaining later.

Determined, Mildred walks over to clay Maud and echoes Hecate’s spell.  It works, and soon enough, Hecate, Pippa, and Ada have joined, each taking their friends one at a time and returning them back to normal.

In the end, there’s much confusion, explained as succinctly and reassuringly as possible by Pippa.  Dimity nearly cries throwing her arms around Ada, having decided she never wants to be acting Deputy again in her life.  Mildred wanders off with her friends, having made amends.  Parents are called, the whole school breaks into a celebration, and Miss Tapioca herself bakes a cake to mark to occasion.

And Hecate, deciding she deserves a long and deep rest, goes to bed early with Pippa by her side.

 

 

 

_‘Miss Pentangle obviously cares about you.’_

The words echo around Hecate’s head all evening once the excitement dies down.  Does she care about Hecate?  It seems like a silly question, remembering Pippa’s arrival after her tearful breakdown.  Most witches wouldn’t take a several hour flight in the dark just to see why someone’s crying.  Mildred is decidedly right in her assessment that Pippa cares about her.  The problem is, Hecate realizes, she doesn’t know exactly what that care means.  Pippa, after all, cares about everyone.

Why should Hecate believe she’s any different?

They’re once again in Hecate’s bed, Pippa reading through some neglected papers and Hecate sighing up at the ceiling.  She’s abandoned her book, eyes too tired to focus on it, but her mind is still wide awake reeling through thoughts of her earlier conversation.

It’s after a particularly hearty sigh that Pippa sets her papers on what has easily become her end table and turns to face Hecate.

“What’s on your mind, Hiccup?” she asks, a knowing glint in her eye that makes Hecate’s stomach flutter.

“I believe Mildred was going to ask me earlier tonight… never mind, it’s nonsense.”

“Ask you what, Hiccup?”

Hecate eyes her carefully.  Pippa’s stretched out beside her on Hecate’s bed like she belongs there, and it’s quite ridiculous really.  There are and have been other beds in the castle, and even if there weren’t, they’re capable witches.  They’ve spent weeks in this arrangement not even talking about looking for another solution.

“About why you keep returning… why you spend the night with me here…”

Pippa crinkles her brow.  “Mildred knows I spend the night with you?”

Hecate blushes.  “No, I, uhm… I may have added that part.”

“I see,” Pippa says, turning on her side to better face Hecate.  “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Hecate says uneasily.  She wants to very much the opposite of that, but doesn’t know how to broach it.  She’s so scared Pippa won’t want to come back if she knows.

“But you want something?” Pippa guesses.

Hecate sighs.  “You always read me too easily.”

“Not nearly as much as I wish I could,” Pippa chuckles.  “It would be much easier if you’d just tell me.”

Hecate’s hands tremble, so she pulls her knees up to her chest to have something to cling to.  Quietly, Pippa sits herself up and crawls towards the bottom of the bed.  She stops in front of Hecate and crosses her legs, looking like she wants to reach out but stopping herself from crowding.  “What’s wrong, Hiccup?  I thought you’d be relieved after today, but you look half devastated.”

Hecate sniffs.  “My bed is cold.”

Pippa frowns.  “Is it?  I’ve never noticed.”

“That’s because you make it warm.”

Pippa looks at her cautiously.  “Oh?”

“And now that we have a fully functioning staff again…”

Pippa lets out a breath and smiles, reaching over and gently placing her hand atop Hecate’s.  “Darling, is that what you’re worried about?  That I won’t visit now?”

“Why should you?”  She shrugs.

“Hecate, honestly.  You’ve had all of this more than under control without need for any of my help, do you truly think I’ve only been flying all this way every weekend just for the sake of the school?”  Pippa looks at her with exasperation, and Hecate feels a tinge of guilt rise in her gut.

“Perhaps,” she admits.

“Well, there’s no need to hold on to that worry any longer, because I have every intention of visiting.  Maybe not every single weekend—Pentangle’s does actually need me sometimes, though it may not seem like it.  Besides,” she adds as an afterthought, already moving back up the bed to lay beside Hecate, “we both know Mildred isn’t going to give up her search for a way to save her mother, and despite your protests, we know you’ll never let her do it alone.  I want to help.”

Hecate relaxes slightly, the confession she hasn’t made still weighing heavily on her chest, but at least Pippa isn’t going to leave.  At least she’ll have time.

“Now that everything is returning to normal, perhaps we can even find you a spare room to use?” Hecate says courteously in spite of her own dislike of the suggestion.

“And leave you to your cold bed?” Pippa asks with a gentle giggle.  “No, I’ll stay right here.”


End file.
